Love
by The Phantom Parisienne
Summary: Erik's first real Christmas. I know, it's really out of season, but I felt like writing little Erik his very own phiclet. ^-^


Disclaimer: I OWN THIS DISCLAIMER!!!!!!!!!!! MUAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!  
  
A/N- This is a bit lighter than my usual short stories, and doesn't (GASP!) involve character death.  
  
Another A/N- I know it's really out of season, but I felt like writing something with little Erik, and this was the first and best idea that popped into my head.  
  
Another another A/N- Little Erik rocks my socks.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- indicates beginning of dream.  
  
"Love"  
  
I pulled the thin coverlet closer to my body and shivered, sitting on the windowsill. Snowflakes gently fell to the ground, making a very picturesque setting of the forbidden outdoors that I so frequently thought about. It was all very pretty, and I couldn't comprehend why the other children could play there while I was virtually under house arrest!  
  
They laughed and cavorted through the piles of fluffy white snow as I enviously looked on. They all seemed so carefree...no worries at all. I had my mother; worry enough for a thousand young lads. I had my mask . . .  
  
In the past week or so, my interest in the other children increased as their excitement for a mysterious event did. I couldn't quite detect what it was, and I was terrified of asking my mother; she was a vicious tyrant. No other child was treated as I was! Their mothers loved them; mine hated me! What did I ever do to her that was an awful crime punishable by hatred?  
  
No child should have to bear that burden.  
  
I lay my head against the cold glass and sighed. Only the small space between the mask and my hair came into contact with the cooling surface. Tiredly, my eyes closed out of instinct and I drifted off into a pleasant, dreamy sleep.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-  
  
Chandeliers hung above my head in a beautiful concert hall. Their flickering light illuminated the huge auditorium beautifully.   
  
A woman was standing before me, a smile gracing her bright red lips. Her blue eyes twinkling, she gave my gloved hand a squeeze. I realized with a jolt that I was about a head taller than her! She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me very quickly. "Good luck!" The woman darted away into the crowd of an audience. I could sense in my mind her name: Christine.  
  
I was now standing at the conductor's desk in front of the grandest orchestra I had ever seen . . . A baton lay in front of me, and all of the musicians' eyes were on me. Gulping, I feebly raised the baton and felt the stares of thousands of eyes upon my back. The score of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony lay on the desk, commanding me personally to begin.  
  
With some slight hesitation I cued the start. The orchestra began under the baton's rule, and followed my every movement. As I progressed, it became more natural . . . more /fluid/. The shaking that I had felt before I picked up the baton had almost completely vanished, and it felt almost commonplace to stand in front of all of those people and create beautiful music; like it was meant to be. For the first time, I felt like I really belonged.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-  
  
Rough hands shook my shoulders. "Wake up! Go to your room, little demon!" Sleepily my eyelids parted, and the livid face of my mother screamed. Her hazel eyes were furious and wide. "Now! And take your mask! I'm expecting guests, monster!" I realized that the mask had fallen off during my nap . . . it was in my lap. My cheek still rested upon the glass window, and I saw a terrifying creature in it. I realized: that creature was me.  
  
Jumping back in horror, I ran upstairs to my attic room, more frightened than I had ever been. Blinking back tears, I sat on the bed, curled up in a fetal position. That hollow-eyed, yellow-skinned skeleton . . . was me. She hadn't been lying when she had called me a monster!  
  
A small music box that sat on my bedside table began to play. It was shaped like a barrel-organ, and a monkey wearing Persian robes and clutching a shiny pair of cymbals sat upon it. A friend of my mother's had brought it exactly one year ago, but mother had refused to tell me why. I assumed that it had something to do with the event that the other children were rejoicing about.  
  
The cheerful melody seemed to contradict so painfully to what I was feeling inside . . . Angrily, I brought my fist upon the mechanism. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, which fell to the cold, splintery floor. A feeling of victory spread over me as I lay there, still envisioning the face.  
  
I ran a finger down my scarred flesh, the bumps and scratches eerily vivid against my long, sensitive fingers. Salty tears flowed down my rough skin, wetting it. "I'm different . . ." I couldn't help but think.  
  
My ears pricked up when I heard my mother say, "Merry Christmas!" The sounds of guests at the door also rang in my ears.  
  
Christmas? What was this Christmas? I certainly had no idea, but from the sound of her voice, it was a very good thing, indeed!  
  
The haunting vision of my own face reigned throughout my mind, filling me with terror. After pacing the room several times and attempting to piece the music box back together, I finally collapsed on the bed from pure exhaustion.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-  
  
After the performance, Christine returned to the orchestra pit to see me. She wanted to see me! "Amazing! All of Paris will be raving about it for days, Erik! Speaking of days, it's Christmas Eve." Her white teeth showed in a dazzling smile.   
  
"I know," I said slowly, unsure of how to react. She was quite near to me now, her electric blue eyes staring into my soul.   
  
"I'm so glad . . ." she leaned her head on my shoulder and the rose-like scent of her perfumed hair drifted into my nose, making it tingle pleasantly. "Merry Christmas, Erik."  
  
"Merry Christmas, Christine." I knew then the true meaning of "Christmas."  
  
It was love.  
  
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A/N- You liked the sappiness! You know you did! NYEH!! HAHA!!! R&R, por favor! 


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